The Hemingford Scandal

by Mary Nichols

  She drew a chair up by the bed and sat beside him, contemplating what his life had been like for him the last few years. Always, always working, often late into the night by candlelight. Why had she not stopped him? Why had she not persuaded him that his health was more important? ‘I knew he wasn’t well,’ she whispered, as the tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks. ‘I should have stopped him working so hard.’

  ‘Now, now, Miss Jane,’ Hannah soothed. ‘You know you couldn’t stop ’im, you tried, you know you did. It was his life.’

  ‘And now it is his death.’ She mopped her eyes and turned to look up at the doctor, standing at the foot of the bed. ‘There will be things to do, arrangements to be made…’

  ‘Yes, do not trouble yourself about them now. Is there anyone you should send for?’

  ‘Aunt Lane. She lives in Bath. I will write to her. And Anne, my cousin Anne.’ The person she most wanted at her side, the person she did not mention, was Harry.

  ‘I’ll go and fetch her,’ Hannah volunteered.

  ‘Good,’ the doctor said. ‘But you should have a man to call on, someone to see to the funeral.’

  ‘There is no one, except Mr Redmayne, my father’s lawyer.’

  ‘Then he must be sent for. A young woman should not have to deal with funerals.’

  ‘There’s the Captain,’ Hannah put in. ‘He would come, you may depend upon it.’

  Jane did not argue. In the face of this tragedy, what did all the petty reasons, the quarrels and jealousies, the power of gossip, matter?

  But it was not Harry who came with Anne, but the Earl of Bostock. He took charge at once, arranging everything, leaving Anne to comfort her friend. ‘Harry would have come, I am sure,’ Anne said. ‘But he is gone out of town.’

  ‘Out of town?’ Jane queried, though the tone of her voice betokened no great interest in the reply. She was numb. She could not think of anything except that her beloved papa was gone and what would she do without him?

  ‘Yes. An errand for…’ she paused ‘…for someone of importance.’

  The pause alerted Jane enough to bring her out of her lethargy. ‘No. He is going to fight Mr Allworthy.’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘Mr Allworthy said he was going to call Harry out. And I had a dream. He was wiping blood from his sword.’

  ‘Harry?’

  ‘No, Donald Allworthy. Harry was dead.’

  Anne gasped and turned pale. ‘No, it was a nightmare, nothing to the purpose. I promise you Harry has not gone to fight a duel.’

  Jane relaxed. ‘I cannot think straight, Anne. What am I to do? Papa was all I had, except Aunt Lane.’

  ‘And me and Harry and Grandfather. We are kin, after all.’

  Jane hugged her cousin. ‘I do not know what I would do without you.’

  Aunt Lane arrived in a flutter of black silk three days later. She crushed Jane to her ample bosom and said tearfully she was not to worry about a thing. Once the funeral was over she would take her to Bath to live. They would do very well there. Jane was too bereft to argue.

  The day of the funeral, Aunt Lane, Jane and Anne sat in the darkened house and waited for the men to return from the committal service. There were few of them: the Earl of Bostock, Dr Harrison, Mr Redmayne, several of her father’s literary friends and the Earl of Carringdale, sent by his nosy wife, who would not come herself. All would require refreshment. Hannah had laid it out in the dining room, sniffing back tears. The maid cried because she had respected Mr Hemingford and because she was worried about her job. Jane could not go on living in the house alone.

  ‘I wish Harry would come back,’ Anne said, breaking a long silence.

  She did not wish it any more than Jane herself. She could not shake that nightmare from her, and Anne’s reaction when told of it had not been reassuring. Harry was in danger, she was sure of it. ‘You are worried about him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where has he gone and why?’

  ‘I cannot tell you.’

  ‘Is he in a scrape?’

  Anne gave a hollow laugh. ‘You could say so, though not of his choosing.’

  ‘And I am to be content with that?’

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  She was about to continue quizzing her friend, but the black carriages returned at that point and the men trooped into the house. Jane was kept busy dispensing refreshment. It was while she was offering Lord Carringdale a glass of wine from a tray that she overheard his conversation with the man standing beside him. ‘Heard it myself from the Home Secretary. Arrested for treason the day before yesterday, caught for running guns to the French. They are bringing him to London to stand trial.’

  ‘That’s a turn about for the gossips and no mistake. He was supposed to be the wronged one and Hemingford the villain. Are you sure there’s no mistake?’

  ‘No mistake. The whole cargo was seized. He put up a good fight, so I heard. It will be in all the papers by morning.’

  Jane only just managed to not to drop the tray and, putting it down safely on a table, rushed to find Anne, where she related what she had heard. ‘Anne, what did he mean? Was that the scrape Harry was in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, are you going to tell me now?’

  ‘I do not know any more than you do. He was sent to arrest a traitor. If Lord Carringdale is right, he was successful and for that I am prodigiously thankful.’

  ‘But they said the man put up a fight. Harry might have been hurt.’

  ‘Let us pray he was not.’

  ‘Amen to that.’ She did not know how she was going survive the night. Already sad and tearful about her father, she had to put on a brave face, act the hostess, listen to Mr Redmayne, who would undoubtedly tell her that, unless she could find a way of earning a living, she was now to be a burden on her relatives. How could she bear that? And all the time there was that knot of fear in her gut about Harry. Where was he?

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane sent Hannah out to buy a newspaper as soon as she heard the cry on the streets. Taking it to her room, she sat down on her bed to read it. It was all there, including the identity of the traitor. It shocked her to the core. Why, Mr Allworthy had even taken her to see the Fair Trader and told her he had an interest in her cargo. Guns! So that was why Harry had professed an interest in them! And though Harry’s name was not mentioned in the report, Anne had known he was involved. Had he known all along that Mr Allworthy was a traitor?

  She was not sure how this changed her feelings for Harry, or even if it did, but she had to know the truth, the whole truth, or they could not deal together. But perhaps he did not want to deal with her, perhaps he had been using her to reach Mr Allworthy. He had quizzed her about her visit to Coprise and King’s Lynn, or had she volunteered the information? She could not remember. And he and Anne had suddenly turned up in Cambridge, on their way back to London from Sutton Park, they said, but Cambridge was not on the usual route. Harry must have been spying on Mr Allworthy even then. Was that why he was so against her marrying the man? Why had he not confided in her? Did he not trust her?

  Harry was driven back to London by Giles, well satisfied with the way things had gone, glad that Allworthy was now where he belonged—in custody. And it had nothing to do with Jane, or very little. He hated treachery of any kind, but that a man could sell weapons to an enemy, knowing they might be used against his own countrymen, was more than he could stomach. War was bad enough when it was conducted in an honourable way; men were killed and maimed in the name of patriotism, but when they were being shot at by weapons that should have been in their own hands, he raged.

  As the new coach rolled smoothly towards the capital, he went over what had happened. Having alerted the Excise officers to be ready, he had disguised himself in the working-man’s fustian coat and breeches and met Thoms, who had pointed out the Fair Trader to him. ‘They’ve just finished unloading the incoming cargo,’ he said. ‘The boxes of umbrellas are
in the warehouse, waiting to be taken on board.’

  ‘Where’s Allworthy?’

  ‘Haven’t seen him.’

  This had been a blow. He had been so sure the man would take the bait. Without Allworthy, nothing could be proved.

  ‘Don’t worry, sir, I’ve taken steps to get him ’ere. The ship’s captain was persuaded to write and tell him there was something wrong with the cargo and he was needed to sort it out.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  Thoms laughed. ‘I never did like the fellow, not even when he was dealing in or’ nary contraband, but guns!’ He spat expertly onto the cobbles. ‘That ain’t fair, not nohow, and so I told him. He didn’t argue for long.’

  Harry could imagine what persuasion was used. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Trussed up somewhere safe.’

  ‘Will they load without him? I want the merchandise on board and our man with it.’

  ‘Yes, the first mate will see to it when I give the signal.’

  ‘Can he be trusted?’

  ‘I think so. Come, I’ll take you to him.’

  The first mate, who was found in a tavern that looked out on the wharf, was anxious to save his skin and was more than willing to cooperate and turn in King’s evidence. ‘Start loading, but do it slowly,’ Harry told him. ‘I don’t want it finished before the owner arrives.’

  They were just taking the last crate on board when Allworthy turned up. Leaving his driver to see to the lathered horses, he left his carriage and hurried on board. Harry, who was determined to see it through to the end, signalled to the hiding Excise men and went on board. He smiled to himself, remembering Allworthy’s shocked face and then his fury, most of which was directed against Harry himself. Gone was the fashionable man about town, the respectable gentleman known for his exquisite manners, here was a snarling beast, who fought for his life.

  He drew a tiny pistol from his pocket, but before he could fire it, the first mate, who had been standing beside him, knocked it from his grasp. Harry thanked him and dived upon his enemy. Then they were trading blows, though not in the gentlemanly manner used at Gentleman Jackson’s; here was a vicious rough and tumble with no quarter asked or given. Harry blessed his time in the ranks where he had learned to fight without rules. Allworthy managed to pull a short dagger from his boot, but by that time the Excise men had joined the fray and he was overcome, but not before he had nicked Harry’s ear.

  Once the prisoner was bound up, the Excise men went off to check the cargo against the manifest and open the crates, which indeed did contain guns. Harry was relieved; he would have looked a great clunch if there had been nothing but umbrellas in them. He returned to watch as Allworthy was formally arrested. ‘All this for a woman,’ he sneered at Harry, ‘and a crippled one at that. I hope you find she is worth it.’

  Harry kept his fists to himself with an effort and smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I am sure of it. But tell me—what was your interest in her? Did you ever intend to marry her?’

  ‘Of course. She is a Hemingford, after all, and I had Lady Carringdale’s promise to raise her up in Society and me with her. The Denderfields would have had to recognise me.’

  ‘Then I am glad she had the good sense to turn you down.’ He turned to the Excise officers. ‘When you take him in and make your report, do not mention my part in it. Give Thoms and the first mate the credit. I am off back to London.’

  He would have to report to Garfitt first and then what? Could he go straight to Jane or ought he to wait until she had recovered from the shock, for shock it would be? Had Anne kept her promise to go and see her?

  ‘A good day’s work,’ Garfitt said, when he was shown, still dusty from travel, into his office. He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Harry. ‘Make your report.’

  Harry told him what had happened in a dry tone which in no way betrayed his loathing of the traitor, his excitement in the fight, his general satisfaction with the outcome.

  ‘Good,’ Garfitt murmured. ‘But why keep your name out of it? You have done an excellent job for which you should be recognised. Do you not wish for a reward?’

  ‘If there is a reward, I shall not say no to it, but I have my reasons for shunning public approbation.’

  The colonel nodded. ‘Miss Jane Hemingford.’

  ‘I must protect her from gossip.’

  ‘My dear fellow, you, above all people, should know what an impossibility that is.’ He paused. ‘But I am glad you are of that mind. The lady’s connection with the traitor will no doubt be on everyone’s lips, but there is no need for it to involve you.’ He took his time refilling their glasses, before going on. ‘A certain royal personage wishes to meet you to congratulate you, but I am to find out if he will be compromised by anything you have done. He does not want to be embarrassed by gossip.’

  Harry laughed. ‘If you are referring to the Regent, he is the biggest instigator of gossip in the kingdom.’

  ‘We know that, but there is one rule for him and another for the rest of us. So, my dear Hemingford, if you can avoid gossip for the foreseeable future, you are to be rewarded by the Regent himself. I will send you word when to present yourself at Carlton House.’

  Harry returned to the carriage in a thoughtful mood. Was Garfitt hinting that he should shun Jane if he wanted to be received by the heir to the throne? Regent or not, he could not, would not, do that. He would do whatever he thought right for Jane.

  He was unprepared for the news Anne gave him when he arrived at Bostock House. She was at first concerned by the sight of him, worrying about the congealed blood on his ear and the purple bruise on his cheek, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘It is nothing. When I have cleaned myself up, you will not even see it.’ He had gone upstairs, washed and changed his clothes and then returned to the dining room where Anne had ordered a cold collation to be laid out for him.

  ‘Well, are you going to tell me what happened?’ she asked, as he tucked in. ‘I know the man was arrested; it was in all the papers.’

  ‘Then you know it all. He cannot harm anyone any more. Did you see Jane?’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Her father has died.’

  He stopped eating. ‘Hemingford dead? Oh, my poor, poor Jane. How is she?’

  ‘Bearing it bravely. She is to go back to Bath with Mrs Lane, who has undertaken to give her a home. Her father left nothing but the contents of the house, which are to be sold.’

  ‘She does not need a home. She has one with us.’

  ‘So I told her, but she expects there will be even more gossip over Allworthy now he has been exposed…’ She paused. ‘She knows it was you.’

  ‘Knows? Do you mean to say you told her?’

  ‘No, I did not, but she heard it from the Earl of Carringdale. He heard it from the Home Secretary and now the Countess has done a complete volte-face and is saying she knew all along that Allworthy was a bad lot and she was doing her best to persuade Jane not to have him.’

  His grunt of laughter was made more from frustration than amusement. ‘And now, I suppose, it is all over town.’

  ‘All over the nation, I should not wonder.’

  ‘What am I to do, Anne?’

  ‘I cannot advise you. Perhaps you should let her go to Bath, be patient for a little while.’

  He laughed suddenly. ‘That’s what Clarence Garfitt was prosing on about. He said I must avoid gossip and I would receive my reward from the hands of the Regent himself. As if I cared a tuppenny cuss about that. But Jane… When is she due to go?’

  ‘As soon as the contents of the house have been sold. The end of the week, I think.’

  They were interrupted by the entrance of the Earl. ‘Heard you were back,’ he said, sitting at the table opposite Harry to watch him eat. ‘Glad to see you are in one piece.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘And my new carriage?’

  ‘Also in one piece.’

  ‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Can’t think what y
ou are doing here, though.’

  ‘Where else should I be?’

  ‘I should not have thought it necessary for me to tell you that. Get off with you. Go to her, before she disappears out of your life again.’

  It had been a long, long day and he had had no sleep the night before; he was fagged out and in no state to go calling. Besides, it was late. ‘I’ll go tomorrow when I have rested. I am not fit to be seen now.’

  The old man laughed. ‘No, you look as if you have been twenty rounds with Jackson and come off worst.’

  Harry bade them both goodnight, went to bed and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  Jane, in deepest mourning, sat with Aunt Lane in the drawing room of the house in Duke Street, her mind and body numb. It was no longer her home; Mr Redmayne had called that afternoon and told her the house had been let and that as soon as the sale of her furniture had been completed, the new tenants wanted to move in. Most of the heavy pieces had gone already and the rest would go the next day. The upheaval, coming on the heels of her father’s death and funeral and the arrest of Mr Allworthy, was almost too much to take.

  In two days’ time, she would leave London for Bath. She would be in the hands of her aunt and, though she loved her dearly, she was not sure that she would like living with her permanently. But perhaps it would be best to leave town. Everyone was talking about her, saying dreadful things about her and Mr Allworthy, as if she had known about his treachery! In spite of his attempts to avoid publicity Harry had become the hero of the hour and her treatment of him two years before was being dragged out again as a despicable act against a fine officer.

  She had yet to say goodbye to Anne, but was reluctant to visit Bostock House for fear of encountering Harry, who must surely have returned to the capital by now. If they met, what could they talk about? They would only go over old ground again, saying the same things, finding no solutions, hurting each other. He had used her, just as everyone else used her and she was hurt by it, especially since they seemed to have been dealing so well together since the accident. He had even mentioned marriage, but in the face of the latest gossip, he would not wish for that.